Worlds Collide: Sunset Rising, Book Two

by McEachern, S. M.

  “Once you get to know him, I know you’ll like him.”

  She leaned forward and stared directly into my eyes. “He’s a bourge! I’ll never like him. I can’t even imagine how you let him touch you.”

  I wasn’t shocked by the fact that she hated the bourge. It was the depth of her hatred that surprised me. She was so passionate about it and I just wanted to shrink away.

  “I don’t want to talk about my personal life right now,” I said.

  “Good. Because the thought alone makes me want to heave.” She jumped down from the counter. “You getting something to eat or not?”

  Turning away from her, I rummaged through the fridge and found some vegetables and thinly sliced meat. I filled a couple of plates. Mom was still awake on the sofa and I offered the plate to her.

  “I’m not sure I can eat,” she said. That worried me.

  Evans came into the room.

  “What’s Bron doing in there?” I asked him.

  “She put together a message exposing Holt and now she’s sending it to everyone she knows. She promised I could go next,” he said. He sat down in a chair. “It’s incredible. The whole thing. He’s been lying to everyone.”

  He looked like he was in shock. I offered him some food, which he declined. Instead he got up and went to the bar. Summer sneered at him and moved next to me.

  “Your turn, Evans,” Bron announced as she came into the room. He practically ran. “It’s going through the system like wildfire. Before I even finished sending out all the messages, I was getting responses back. I sent the original files straight off Holt’s computer.”

  I examined Mom’s wound. It was starting to look red and swollen. She needed treatment. “Summer, are any drugs or meds kept here?”

  I looked up just in time to see Summer turn an alarmed face toward Bron. Bron shook her head in response.

  “What do you mean?” Summer asked me.

  Something was going on. “I mean a topical antibiotic or some pain relief for my mom. What did you think I meant?”

  Her face went blank. “That’s what I thought you meant. I’ll go see.”

  I watched her leave, wondering what secret she and Bron could possibly have. I decided not to pursue it. We had enough to deal with.

  Mom’s hair was plastered to her forehead and Bron got her a cool, wet cloth. I was hoping infection hadn’t set in yet. Summer came back with a tube of topical antibiotic and bandages.

  “Sorry, Mom, but this might hurt.”

  She nodded and gritted her teeth while I treated and dressed her wound.

  I went into the kitchen in search of a glass of water for her. That’s when I spied the coffeemaker. We were in for a long night, so it couldn’t hurt.

  Summer declined coffee, preferring the drink she already held in her hand. I helped my mom drink the water and then took the tray of coffee into the office to offer some to Bron and Evans. I looked at Leisel on my way by, her eyes spitting venom at me. Her hatred helped ease my conscience on leaving her in such an uncomfortable state.

  Evans was sitting at the computer, Bron peering over his shoulder.

  “How long have we been here?” I asked.

  “It’s been almost four hours,” Evans said.

  “Should we make contact again?”

  “Already did about half an hour ago,” Evans said. “I told them we were still waiting on Jack Kenner.”

  “What are you doing now?” I asked.

  “Going through Holt’s computer. He has links to every system in the Dome, including the genetics department,” Bron said. She raised her eyes to look at me. “He killed babies. Any child born with what Holt considered an abnormality was euthanized. Euthanized! But officially, it’s recorded as a stillbirth.”

  Bron shook her head in disbelief, her expression outraged. I wasn’t shocked by the news. The Holt regime had been killing us for years. It wasn’t so unbelievable that he would kill his own people, too. What was truly unbelievable was that he had convinced so many others to do the killing for him.

  I thought of Abby and realized just what a true miracle she was. Not only was she of urchin stock, but she would also fall into the category of “abnormal.” Was she alive because the doctor on duty the day she was born couldn’t stomach any more killing? What a twist of fate for her to be the one to escape death and grow up to point the way out of the Pit.

  “Something’s happening!” Evans burst out.

  He ran into the room with Bron close on his heels. He picked up the remote and changed the channel on the television.

  Blurred images came to life on the screen. A horde of terrified, screaming people dropping dead as automatic weapons sprayed bullets at them. Some diving behind vehicles parked on the tarmac, but most forging head-on into the bullets. This was the video Jack told me about on our wedding day. Tears had run down his face when he tried to describe it. And now I understood why. Words couldn’t describe this. It defied logic. It was incomprehensible. What would make mothers carrying babies run toward the men shooting at them? And how could they shoot?

  “What is that?” Evans asked.

  I swallowed down the nausea rising in my throat. “It’s our initiation into the Pit. The day we entered the Dome.”

  Evans’s eyes widened in horror. “This is real?”

  “Is this playing all over the Dome?” I asked. Evans nodded. “It’s really late though. Probably not many people are seeing it.”

  “They’re seeing it,” Evans said. “And news this big is going to spread fast.”

  As we watched, the gunfire ceased. People came out of hiding and ran toward the hangar doors. There was a sea of people surging toward a hangar already full with helicopters, jeeps and other vehicles. A man entered the hangar, shouting commands. The camera zoomed in on him.

  “Everyone in the Dome is going to recognize that face,” Bron said.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Edward Holt,” Evans said. “The Dome’s first president. His picture is everywhere.”

  “It’s not in the Pit,” I said.

  Then the hangar doors began closing. Voices were raised in terrifying screams. People were still trying to squeeze through the opening even as it narrowed and finally closed. Bile rose up and I snapped my head away from the gruesome sight.

  As soon as the video ended it, it began to replay.

  “This is going to start a riot in the Dome,” Bron said.

  Summer made a guttural sound. “Why?” she asked. “It’s just bourge shooting urchins. Everyone in the Dome will probably think that’s just good sport!”

  And she wouldn’t be far off in that assumption, I thought. The first place I stumbled upon in the great outdoors was the shooting range. But out of respect for Bron and the newly aligned Evans, I kept that information to myself.

  “Not everyone in the Dome supported Holt,” Bron shot back. “And you of all people should know that.”

  Summer pouted. “I’m just saying that video won’t change anyone’s mind. If they hated us before, they still will.”

  “Can we change the channel?” I asked. I couldn’t stomach seeing that video again.

  Evans still had the remote and he changed it back to the security camera. The hallway was cluttered with even more soldiers now and they appeared to be having an intense conversation.

  I sat on the edge of the sofa beside my mom. Her eyes were closed and it alarmed me. I checked her pulse—still strong. She was just asleep.

  “Is there sound?” I asked.

  “No,” Evans said. “They’re probably reacting to the video and messages we sent out.”

  As I watched the screen, I was sure I saw the slightest
movement of the door at the end of the hallway. The soldiers didn’t seem to notice anything, too engrossed in whatever they were discussing. I stared at the door. It opened slightly and the barrel of a rifle poked out. I saw the jolt of the barrel a split second after I heard the sound of gunfire drift in from the hallway.

  The men in the hallway had nowhere to hide. They drew their weapons and backed up toward Holt’s apartment. They were practically standing under the camera.

  The door at the end of the hallway opened wider. The full rifle and the hands holding it were visible. The stairwell door opened and someone stepped halfway into the hallway, a rifle pointed at the cowering soldiers.

  I heard shouting out in the hallway, although on the television screen no one appeared to be moving. The voices drifting into the apartment were too muffled to make out. The person at the door at the end of the hallway stepped forward. Two more men carrying guns were right behind him.

  Narrowing my eyes, I leaned forward and peered at the screen to get a better look at one of the men. “That’s Jack,” I announced to the room.

  “Are you sure? You can’t really see his face,” Bron said.

  I didn’t need to see his face. I could tell by the way he stood and how he moved. “I’d know him anywhere.”

  The man at the stairwell door stepped out into the hall. He wore the white uniform of a guard from the Pit. “It looks like he has the Alliance with him,” Bron said.

  The militia was backed into a corner with the Alliance advancing. Jack walked forward, pointing the barrel of his rifle at the ceiling and holding up his other hand in a stop position. More Alliance members poured into the hall. I was pretty sure I recognized Reyes.

  Jack talked for what seemed like an eternity. He was the front man—the person who was going to get shot if any of the soldiers decided to raise a gun. I wanted to run out of the door, distract the soldiers, and do anything to take their mind off Jack. But I knew bursting out during an intense situation wasn’t a smart thing to do. All I could do was watch and wait.

  Finally, there was movement. The soldiers were setting their guns on the floor. The Alliance moved swiftly down the hallway.

  Bron and Evans cheered. Our imprisonment was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I jumped up from the sofa, the sudden movement waking my mother. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Jack’s here,” I said.

  Evans was already at the door, opening the locks. Within seconds Jack walked through the door. Reyes and Micah were right behind him with a few other Alliance members.

  Jack’s eyes found me right away, concern, frustration and relief all crossing his face. I took a step toward him, but a familiar tug pulled me back and made me hesitate. I hadn’t felt that pull in a very long time—that latent urge to hide myself, to be small and insignificant. I wasn’t sure of the last time I felt that way. At some point during my life with Jack, I forgot I was supposed to be inconsequential. But now, with so many witnesses in the room, I wished I had a piece of coal to make myself anonymous again.

  I knew the moment I stepped into Jack’s waiting embrace that I would offend people. My mother and Summer, who hated the bourge. Reyes, who might be hurt and definitely wouldn’t understand. Anyone in the room who believed an urchin and bourge were not meant to be together. It really wasn’t that long ago that those pressures would have had me running for cover. But something deep within me rose to challenge those old feelings. It told me the only person I was most afraid of offending was Jack.

  I held my head up a little higher, defying the urge to be inconsequential. What I had with Jack was nothing less than beautiful. It was not small. It was not insignificant.

  I ran and threw my arms around him, hoping he didn’t notice my split second of hesitation. He buried his face in my shoulder and held me there so tight I could barely breathe.

  “You came for me,” I whispered.

  He pulled back to look at me, a smile lighting up his face. “I don’t like being stood up.”

  “Then I guess I have some making up to do.”

  He nodded. “And I’m going to hold you to that.” He dipped his head toward mine and kissed me quickly. “How’s your mom?” he asked.

  “She’s in a lot of pain.” I looked over at her and was surprised to find someone attending her. “Who’s that?”

  “I messaged an old friend. He’s still a med student, but he can patch her up until we get her to the hospital.”

  I suddenly flashed back to when he first met my father. He was considerate then, too. “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay with leaving her in his hands? You and I have something to do.”

  For some reason I didn’t like the sound of that. Hadn’t we done enough? Wasn’t it time to escape the Dome with the rest of the Pit? “Should I ask what?”

  “There was a camera crew covering the hostage situation when we came up, although they took off when they saw us coming. I think you and I should find them and make a statement.”

  “What? You mean a public statement?”

  My outburst caught the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes turned to look at us.

  “It’s time to come out of hiding, Sunny. If we don’t go out there and own this—the president’s death, the city outside, everything—we’ll live like fugitives for the rest of our lives. We need to be the ones to expose all of Holt’s secrets.”

  “It could work,” Bron said. “Based on the replies Evans and I have received from our messages, people are quickly turning against the president. There’s a lot of evidence on his computer that babies and children were euthanized because they weren’t genetically perfect,” she added for the benefit of the newcomers.

  The young doctor attending my mom looked up. “A colleague sent me a message about a lynch mob outside the hospital, but she had no idea why. Do you mind sending her those messages?”

  “Give me her address,” Evans said. He looked at Jack and me. “And if you need me to back you on your statement, I’d be honored.”

  My hands started shaking at the very thought. No one would want to hear from me. I was just an urchin. “You make the statement.”

  “No. The Pit needs to be represented and you’re the most recognizable face. And Sunny, you’ve earned the right to have your say.”

  “But Jack, I don’t—”

  “I’ll be right beside you.”

  I scanned the room, my eyes stopping at Reyes. His face was covered in dirt and dust after a night of working on the tunnel. But he didn’t run with everyone else. He was here. Staying to fight. Micah looked just as exhausted. Summer was back in her corner, hiding away. And my mother lay on the sofa, a bullet in her shoulder and a tag in her neck.

  Freedom as we always dreamed about it wasn’t going to happen. The lands weren’t safe for us. We were all going to be stuck together in this valley—urchin and bourge alike—dependent on technology for clean water and food. The abuse, the killing and the oppression had to stop. We wouldn’t leave the Pit only to be tagged, kept in a corral, and used as slaves. We were no longer bound by the treaty and someone needed to make that perfectly clear.

  Jack was right—I did need to make a public statement. But not for me. For them.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I caught the twinkle of fondness in his eyes, a look that had become intimately familiar. He kissed my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered. He stepped away from me and addressed the room. “We split up into groups. I need a team to take the stairwell and a few armed men in the elevator with us.”

  “I’m staying here to guard that computer,” Bron announced. “I wouldn’t put it past Holt’s cronies to come in here and destroy evidence.”

  “I’ll stay with her
,” Evans said.

  Summer stepped out of her corner. “I’ll stay with your mom and make sure she’s okay.”

  I looked at Reyes and Micah. It was difficult to tell what Reyes was thinking since his features were often clouded with anger. “I’ll go with the team taking the stairs,” he said and stomped out of the room.

  I ignored the impulse to stop him, to try to explain everything, conscious that Jack’s eyes were on me. It was no longer my place to worry why Reyes might be upset, but it was hard not to feel guilty for possibly being the cause.

  As we put our plan into action, my hands began to shake. I knew from experience that once we were in the elevator, it wouldn’t take long to reach our destination—the second level. Although the last time I took this trip, I was shrouded in white and unrecognizable. This time I would arrive as me—Sunset O’Donnell, a known traitor and fugitive. At least I had my criminal husband beside me, giving me support.

  With a hallway full of armed Alliance, the president’s militia was nowhere to be seen—at least not on this level. Most likely, they had retreated elsewhere to regroup and make a new plan of attack. It was doubtful they expected us to come down via the elevator and ask to be interviewed.

  The elevator doors opened and four of us—two armed escorts and Jack and I—got on. The doors closed. It was quiet. The memory of struggling to control the rhythm of my breathing when dressed as the bride came back to haunt me. It was happening again, now.

  Jack reached out and smoothed either side of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Fixing your hair for the cameras,” he said. He pulled back his lips. “Anything in my teeth?”

  The two Alliance members tried to keep a straight face.

  I looked at his teeth. “No, Jack. There’s nothing in your teeth.”

  “I always used to check my teeth before an interview because you never know.”